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c/1  ^unsirucuvc  r-nuosopny 
for  Child -Culture 


W.  C.  MORROW 


GIFT  OF 
Class  of  1887 


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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  vyith  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/constructivephilOOmorrrich 


: 


A  Constructive  Philosophy 
for  Child-Culture 


BY 


W.  C.  MORROW 


BERKELEY,     CALIFORNIA 
Published  by  the  A-toZed  School 


COPYRIGHT.  1913.  BY  W.  C.  MOKROW 


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A  Constructive  Philosophy 
for  Child-Culture 


An  experience  of  years  in  the  teaching  of 
authorship  to  adults  led  me  gradually  to  evolve 
a  definite  philosophy  as  a  substantial  basis  for 
that  guidance.  The  principals  of  the  A-to-Zed 
School,  Berkeley,  on  coming  to  understand  that 
philosophy,  and  on  observing  its  practical  opera- 
tion and  results,  agreed  with  me  that  it  might 
be  successfully  applied  to  the  general  develop- 
ment of  children, — with  no  purpose,  however, 
of  making  authors  of  them.  Accordingly,  in 
the  latter  part  of  1912  they  assembled  a  small 
class  of  boys  and  girls  from  ten  to  twelve  years 
of  age.  This  class  was  taken  through  to  the 
end  of  the  school  year  in  1913.  The  results 
were  such  that  later  in  the  school  year  the  entire 
composition  work  of  the  school,  with  modifica- 
tions of  method  suited  to  high-school  pupils  and 
with  the  same  philosophic  basis,  was  turned 
over  to  me.    Thus  the  A-to-Zed  School  has  made 

s 

87G978 


it  possible  for  me  to  make  an  inclusive  test  of 
my  theory  of  child-culture. 


Following  is  a  meager  outline  of  the  philos- 
ophy ofi  which  all  this  guidance  is  based: 

XJie  human  being  contains  all  that  has  pro- 
c'duced  hifn  in  the  long  evolutionary  process 
through  which  he  has  been  constantly  urged 
upward  during  the  ages.  Un^er  the  ordinary 
drift  of  life  very  few  of  these  inheritances  are 
ever  discovered  by  their  possessor,  for  they  lie 
beneath  consciousness.  In  an  emergency  some 
of  them  may  come  forth,  as  when  a  mother  de- 
velops extraordinary  courage  and  resourceful- 
ness on  seeing  her  child  threatened,  or  love  be- 
tween the  sexes  works  similar  miracles  of  self- 
discovery.  Obviously  the  powers  thus  evoked 
by  unusual  stress  are  not  intended  for  emergency 
use  merely.  They  can  be  intelligently  searched 
out  and  made  continuously  useful.  Friendly 
opportunity  or  a  daring  personality  may  produce 
all  the  difference  between  a  distinguished  person 
and  a  nonentity,  without  a  real  difference  m 
natural  ability.  In  children  these  valuable  sub- 
conscious powers  lie  near  the  surface,  not  having 
been  overlaid  by  life-experiences,  and  readily 
respond  to  proper  stimuli.     Nature  has  started 

6 


children  nearly  aright.  The  child  is  the  norm 
of  the  species.  To  help  children  find,  develop 
and  organize  their  deep  forces  and  thus  lay 
foundations  for  a  competent  after-life,  is  the  aim 
of  this  new  work. 

In  a  broad  sense  we  may  conceive  an  indi- 
vidual as  being  his  peculiar  conscious  personal- 
ity superimposed  upon  that  larger  self  which 
he  has  inherited  and  of  which  he  is  unconscious. 
What  we  call  his  personality  may  be  regarded 
as  his  individual  addition  to  his  inherited  self 
and  his  contribution  to  the  ever-deepening 
stream  of  powers  transmitted  through  the  gen- 
erations. But  that  which  he  thus  adds  is  quite 
insignificant  in  comparison  with  the  long-accum- 
ulated store  of  what  he  has  received.  Some 
eminent  philosophers  declare  that  perhaps  it  is 
just  as  well  the  common  man  has  no  conception 
of  his  real  power,  his  sudden  discovery  of  which 
would  probably  lead  to  disastrous  wrenchings 
of  the  established  order.  The  way  to  avoid  this 
would  be  to  see  that  the  discovery  is  started  by 
the  individual  in  his  youth,  and  is  made  con- 
tinuous; then  in  his  adult  years  he  will  represent 
the  opposite  of  a  disruptive  force. 

Although  these  great  inherited  powers  may 
never  be  discovered  by  their  possessor,  their 
neglect  does  not  bring  them  either  atrophy  or 
death.     Nature  has  placed  that  catastrophe  be- 

7 


yond  our  stupid  encompassing,  because  inherited 
qualities  must  be  passed  on.  Any  of  these  pow- 
ers awaits  our  summons  all  through  life.  It  is 
for  us  to  call  into  service,  from  the  innumerable 
train  of  them,  those  needed  for  a  definite  use; 
but  a  condition  of  finding  them  is  our  knowledge 
that  they  exist  and  faith  in  our  ability  to  bring 
them  forth.  Fortunately  children  do  not  require 
either  that  enlightened  understanding  or  that 
faith. 

In  the  early  conflict  of  species  there  arose 
devices  of  conduct  on  the  part  of  some  to  evade 
the  destructive  power  of  others.  Thus  cunning, 
concealment,  flight  —  which  in  human  beings 
have  become  cowardice  or  a  lack  of  self-confi- 
dence— came  into  existence  as  hereditary  traits, 
and  we  give  abundant  evidence  of  them.  The 
lack  of  courage,  arising  from  want  of  self-know- 
ledge, is  shown  by  such  expressions  as,  "I  know 
my  limitations,'*  or,  ^'I  know  I  can't,'* — things 
beyond  human  knowledge. 

All  such  qualities,  being  negative  or  hinder- 
ing, give  way  when  positive  qualities  are  brought 
into  service.  That  must  be  true  of  the  past,  else 
man  could  not  have  emerged  from  the  conflict 
and  triumphantly  taken  his  place  at  the  end  of 
the  longest  line  and  the  most  highly  evolved 
species;  and  it  is  as  certainly  a  condition  of 
future  progress. 

8 


Discovery,  development  and  organization  of 
one's  inherited  powers  must  be  regarded  as  one's 
supreme  opportunity.  Habit,  the  most  potent 
force  of  sustained  conduct,  is  likely  to  be  bad 
unless  the  will  trains  it  to  be  good.  At  any  time 
in  life  one  may  start  self-development  and  secure 
astonishing  results,  but  in  the  later  years  this 
usually  requires  a  longer  draft  on  the  w^ill  than 
in  youth,  and  nature  apparently  prefers  that  we 
should  drift  rather  than  remain  under  a  strain. 
Habit  is  nature's  means  for  relieving  will-strain. 
The  will-effort  of  children  readily  responds  to 
authority,  which  acceptably  takes  the  place  of 
strain,  and  as  children  have  a  quick  adaptability, 
wise  habits  may  be  easily  formed.  Habits 
formed  early  in  life  are  the  strongest  and  most 
enduring.  A  firm  purpose  is  needed  to  plant 
them  in  the  after-years. 

Youth  and  growth  are  synonymous.  Growth 
is  development.  That  is  youth  also.  There  can 
be  no  youth  without  growth.  So  long  as  develop- 
ment proceeds,  no  matter  what  one's  age,  one  is 
young.  The  moment  it  stops,  no  matter  how 
youthful  in  years  one  may  be,  retrogression  sets 
in.  To  plant  an  early  habit  of  growth  is  to  as- 
sure the  best  qualities  of  youth  to  the  end. 

If  every  person  should  earnestly  seek  to  dis- 
cover, develop  and  organize  his  inherited  powers 
to  some  high  definite  end,  and  not  think  to  fight 

9 


his  weaknesses,  there  would  be  no  inefficiency, 
poverty  and  crime.  That  must  be  so,  for  evolu- 
tion means  an  upward,  not  a  downward,  course, 
and  determines  for  success,  not  failure,  else  in 
time  all  forms  of  life  would  be  self-extinguish- 
ing. Every  person  who  exhibits  through  his  life 
a  downward  instead  of  an  upward  tendency — 
who  presents,  on  the  whole,  more  failures  than 
triumphs — or  who  stands  still,  stultifies  the 
basic  principle  of  all  life  and  betrays  the  gen- 
erations that  produced  him.  Yet  in  actual  life 
the  ratio  of  life-failures  to  successes  is  enor- 
mously large,  and  that  of  arrested  growth  to 
continuous  development  prodigiously  larger. 
That  ratio  can  be  greatly  reduced,  if  not  totally 
eliminated,  by  guidance  enabling  individuals, 
at  any  time  in  life,  and  especially  in  youth,  to 
find,  assemble  and  train  their  native  abilities. 

For  convenience  we  may  divide  these  inher- 
ited powers  into  two  great  orders, — those  look- 
ing inward  and  those  reaching  outward,  or  the 
group  of  powers  determining  individuality  and 
the  group  tending  to  make  the  individual  a  so- 
cial unit.  There  is  a  struggle  for  dominance 
between  those  two  sets  of  powers.  It  is  obvious 
that  a  mere  social  unit  is  a  feeble  social  factor, 
and  that  a  highly  developed  individuality  free 
from  social  domination  is  in  a  commanding  po- 
sition to  be  socially  useful.    A  society  composed 

10 


of  unindividualized  units  is  a  mob,  with  all  the 
instability  and  irrationality  which  the  word 
implies.  To  produce  such  a  social  body  is  the 
tendency  of  modern  popular  education. 

Rarely  do  we  see  an  individual  showing  a 
true  balance  between  the  selfish  and  the  altru- 
istic development.  On  one  hand  we  are  likely 
to  see  persons  isolated  in  selfish  pursuits  and 
therefore  of  small  or  negative  social  usefulness, 
and  on  the  other  hand — as  is  oftener  the  case — 
those  who  are  swamped  in  the  social  morass  and 
of  little  usefulness  for  that  reason. 

Apparently  nature,  operating  through  a 
powerful  gregarious  impulse,  resists  efforts  to- 
ward individual  development,  fearing  that  it 
may  separate  the  individual  from  his  kind  and 
thus  destroy  his  social  usefulness.  Yet  in  order 
to  become  valuable  to  his  world  the  individual 
must  struggle  against  social  submergence.  So- 
ciety is  a  far  more  dangerous  tyrant  than  in- 
dividuality, although  it  is  never  necessary  to 
fall  under  the  tyranny  of  either.  Social  demands 
are  never  so  vital  to  the  individual  as  self-devel- 
opment, and  as  the  levels  of  common  contact  are 
necessarily  low  and  present  life  largely  in  shal- 
low and  misleading  aspects,  a  yielding  to  those 
demands  is  destructive  to  the  individual  as  a 
power  unless  he  has  come  through  development 
to  understand  them,  retain  mastery  over   them, 

11 


and  make  them  serve  his  larger,  more  generous 
purposes. 

The  prime  aim  in  my  guidance  of  children 
is  to  help  them  find  for  themselves,  and  develop 
and  organize  into  a  natural  synthesis,  their  best 
individual  powers  by  setting  them  pleasant 
tasks  of  a  social  nature.  In  this  all  tendency  to 
artificality  is  guarded  against.  The  children  are 
helped  to  find  their  inward-looking  powers  in  a 
way  that  develops  their  social  understanding 
and  usefulness. 


Self-extension,  or  self-projection,  —  the  im- 
pressing of  ourselves  upon  our  world,  —  is  a 
natural  impulse,  a  principle  of  evolution,  and 
is  necessary  to  individual  and  social  progress. 
Its  evident  purpose  is  to  assure  our  individual 
development  by  stimulating  self-discovery,  so 
that  we  may  give  our  world  the  benefit  of  the 
valuable  powers  that  we  find  in  ourselves.  The 
doing  for  others  calls  forth  powers  quite  differ- 
ent from  those  employed  in  doing  for  ourselves, 
and  added  to  the  latter,  assures  a  rounded  self- 
organization.  The  tendency  of  the  helpful  im- 
pulse, operating  with  self-development,  is  to 
banish  all  enmities  and  ultimately  unify  the 
peoples  of  the  world. 

Untrained,  unintelligent  self-projection,  or 
12 


self-expression,  in  the  form  of  bald  self-asser- 
tion,— its  common  form, — is  merely  a  blank 
phase  of  consciousness;  it  has  no  regard  for 
either  self-development  or  usefulness,  and  is  as 
likely  to  be  injurious  as  beneficent. 

As  a  form  of  self-projection,  speech  satisfied 
men  until  their  evolution  urged  them  to  devise 
a  finer,  deeper,  more  far-reaching  mode.  Thus 
writing  came  into  existence,  and  printing  was 
its  logical  development.  These  meant  a  vast  ex- 
tension of  speech.  A  parallel  projection,  or  ex- 
tension, is  seen  in  the  evolution  of  the  fist-blow, 
which  at  first  was  limited  by  the  length  of  the 
arm;  then  it  advanced  in  force  and  distance  to 
the  wielded  club,  then  to  the  thrown  stone,  then 
to  the  spear,  then  the  bow-and-arrow,  then  fire- 
arms, down  to  the  present,  when  we  see  the  orig- 
inal fist-blow  enormously  extended  in  distance 
and  force  by  ordnance  that  can  sink  a  ship  or 
destroy  a  city  a  dozen  miles  away.  In  many 
other  ways  human  expression,  or  projection,  has 
been  and  is  extending  prodigiously.  None  of 
these  extensions  is  more  useful  in  itself  or  more 
essential  to  progress  than  that  of  spoken  to  writ- 
ten self-expression.  Other  powers  being  equal, 
the  person  who  has  not  developed  beyond  the 
speaking  range  of  self-expression  suffers  in  com- 
petition with  one  who  can  express^  or  project, 
himself  through  writing. 

13 


Written  expression  is  not  a  mere  efflorescence 
of  speech,  not  simply  a  projection  of  it  beyond 
the  reach  of  the  voice.  For  writing  calls  out 
powers  far  in  advance  of  those  exercised  in 
speaking;  these  powers  are  partly  an  evolution 
of  those  employed  in  speaking  and  partly  in- 
herited understanding  which  evades  speech. 
And  in  the  mere  act  of  writing,  new  factors  come 
into  play.    Two  of  these  are  isolation  and  time. 

Few  know  the  value  of  temporary  solitude 
and  concentrated  introspection  in  giving  an  op- 
portunity to  sound  the  profounder  depths  of  self 
and  secure  there  a  richer  understanding  and 
augmented  power.  Withdrawal  has  doubtless 
accounted  in  large  part  for  the  brilliant  achieve- 
ments of  philosophers,  scientists,  inventors,  au- 
thors and  others  of  distinguished  value  to  the 
world.  It  is  said  that  Jesus  and  Buddha  absent- 
ed themselves  for  a  long  time  from  human  asso- 
ciation; and  observe  the  tremendous  vitality  of 
the  philosophies  which  they  promulgated!  We 
must  look  deep  within  for  revealment  of  the 
mysteries  and  wonders  of  life  and  for  the  greater 
potencies.  Writing  of  the  higher  kinds  compels 
that  inward  search.  It  is  significant  that  in  the 
most  advanced  races  and  individuals  the  impulse 
to  write  is  fundamental.  The  children  of  highly 
developed  races  instinctively  take  to  it.  That 
aptitude  indicates  an  inherited  impulse  to  ex- 

14 


press  self  by  this  most  potent,  most  enriching  of 
means. 

Add  time  to  solitude,  and  the  scheme  of  self- 
expression,  and  of  self-development  by  means  of 
it,  is  immensely  expanded.  Speaking  implies  a 
comparatively  shallow  and  a  risky  rapidity  of 
mental  and  emotional  processes.  The  spoken 
addresses  that  have  become  immortal  were  pre- 
pared in  solitude.  The  deeper  understanding 
is  rarely  or  never  instant  in  response,  unless 
some  spontaneity  has  been  developed  by  long 
practice  in  concentration  and  is  sustained  by 
habit;  and  the  social  pressure  constantly  forces 
it  back.  Courage,  the  noblest  and  rarest  of  hu- 
man traits,  is  freer  for  creative  work  in  solitude 
than  under  the  restraints  imposed  by  observers. 

We  are  as  much  a  product  of  what  we  do  as 
what  we  do  is  a  product  of  us.  When  the  will 
has  determined  any  definite  work  the  powers 
readiest  to  serve  it  align  themselves  at  once  for 
that  service.  But  a  human  being  is  all  but  in- 
finitely complex  in  variety  of  inherent  powers. 
Many  of  these  may  demand  exercise  in  ways 
other  than  that  selected  by  the  will ;  but  all  of 
the  highest  and  best  of  these  powers  appear  to 
be  flexible  and  adaptable,  so  that  when  they  dis- 
cover persistence  in  a  certain  line  of  work,  they, 
desiring  exercise,  one  by  one  swing  into  the 
chosen  current  of  activity,  thus  presenting  the 

15 


great  spectacle  of  continuous  development  and 
progressively  increasing  power  in  a  determined 
direction.  Such  a  course  transforms  a  weak 
versatility  into  a  powerful  definiteness. 

In  like  manner  the  kind  of  writing  that  one 
persists  in  doing  determines  the  direction  that 
one's  organization  will  take.  All  of  one's  crea- 
tive powers  not  naturally  inclined  to  exercise 
through  writing  will  eventually,  if  writing  is 
persisted  in,  fall  into  step  with  those  that  are  so 
inclined.  Writing  of  the  higher  kinds  is  intense- 
ly constructive,  and,  being  so,  is  highly  organ- 
izing. It  assures  the  individual  definiteness  and 
development  which  are  essential  to  any  calling 
besides  authorship.  And  in  no  other  great  con- 
structive work  is  so  simple  an  equipment  re- 
quired; in  none  other  is  so  large  a  freedom  as  to 
time  and  place  possible. 

It  is  not  intended  here  to  make  comparisons 
among  the  different  kinds  of  writing  in  esti- 
mating their  value  as  a  determining  factor  in 
shaping  the  writer's  development. 

Writing  is  the  means  employed  in  this  new 
method  of  aiding  children  to  secure  self-dis- 
covery and  self-development,  but  it  is  a  complete 
departure  from  the  usual  school  work  in  com- 
position, in  being  efferent  instead  of  afferent, — 
it  draws  out  instead  of  puts  in  or  using  what  has 
been  put  in,  and  in  the  drawing  out  it   reaches 

16 


for  the  deeper  inherited  powers  instead  of  the 
meager  and  uncoordinated  experiences  and 
immature  thought-processes  of  the  child. 


The  kind  of  writing  chosen  for  the  children 
had  to  embody  Imagination  and  Invention,  and 
the  tasks  involving  those  elements  must  be  flex- 
ible and  selective,  so  that  a  free  scope  for  self- 
discovery  and  development  might  be  given  to 
each  individual  of  the  class. 

Imagination  is  inherited  experience.  Vivid 
in  children,  it  becomes  more  and  more  deeply 
overlaid  by  life-experiences  as  the  years  increase. 
Though  not  an  element  of  consciousness,  it  is 
highly  responsive  to  demands  made  on  it  by  the 
will,  is  unconsciously  used  to  a  greater  or  less 
extent  in  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life,  and  stands 
ready  to  give  its  best  help  in  vital  emergencies. 
The  imagination  contains,  among  other  quali- 
ties, insight,  sentiment,  sympathy,  reverence,  re- 
ligion, courage,  love,  aspiration, — the  most  of 
all  that  constitutes  the  individual's  ultimate 
worth  and  power.  To  neglect  the  imagination 
throughout  life  is  to  lose  most  of  the  strength 
and  grace  of  life ;  and  yet  that  is  the  lot  of  all  but 
a  few,  and  the  policy  of  most  popular  educa- 
tional methods.     Indeed,  some  teachers  regard 

17 


the  child's  imagination  as  a  noxious  growth  that 
must  be  diligently  uprooted.  In  truth,  it  is  that 
from  which  understanding  and  reason  proceed. 

The  work  of  the  imagination  is  a  mental  re- 
construction of  life  and  happenings  in  the  past 
generations;  or,  in  a  larger  sense,  a  cultivated 
ability  to  combine  inherited  memories.  It  there- 
fore includes,  in  every  man  and  woman,  indivi- 
dual experiences  of  both  sexes  through  unmeas- 
ured ages,  and  a  vast  range  of  distinct  individ- 
uals with  their  separate  life-histories.  We  can 
form  a  faint  idea  of  the  immensity  of  this  in- 
herited understanding  and  power  by  reflecting 
that  in  only  forty  generations,  covering  little 
more  than  half  the  Christian  era,  nearly  one 
billion  men  and  as  many  women,  each  with 
varied  life-experiences,  have  entered  into  the 
composition  of  every  man  and  every  woman 
living  today;  and  forty  generations  are  an  in- 
significant number  in  comparison  with  the  gen- 
erations which  lived  through  the  ages  preceding 
them. 

It  is  through  a  prudent  exercise  of  the  im- 
agination that  most  of  what  is  valuable  in  us  may 
be  found,  developed  and  made  useful.  So  high- 
ly does  nature  value  the  imagination  that  she 
furnishes  it  to  us  in  great  abundance,  as  is  seen 
with  children,  and  she  is  not  alarmed  at  their 
using  it  in  the  most  extravagant  ways, — all  as  a 

18 


training  for  practical  use  later,  just  as  the  nat- 
ural urge  to  an  apparently  wasteful  physical 
activity  in  play  compels  them  to  develop  and 
train  their  bodies  for  the  stern  demands  of 
maturity.  Yet  nature  is  frugal  in  furnishing 
means  to  an  end.  It  is  as  crippling  to  repress 
the  imaginative  fecundity  of  children  as  it 
would  be  to  check  their  physical  play.  The  true 
task  is  to  direct  the  exercise  of  the  child's  im- 
aginative powers  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  them 
constructive  and  developing,  instead  of  inco- 
herent and  idle.  Such  training  of  the  imagina- 
tion is  essential  to  the  highest  reasoning,  includ- 
ing the  forming  of  far-seeing  hypotheses  on 
which  the  greatest  scientific  and  philosophic 
advances  are  made. 

The  sub-conscious,  and  also  the  imagination 
because  it  is  the  dominant  element  of  the  sub- 
conscious, is  untrustworthy  if  not  held  under 
direction.  In  heavy  stresses  it  may  be  turbulent, 
unreasonable  and  destructive  if  untrained. 
Something  is  needed  to  steady  it,  and  to  select, 
develop  and  organize  its  better  forces. 

Invention  supplies  that  need.  This  is  a  fac- 
ulty of  the  conscious  mind,  and  is  our  organiz- 
ing, planning  force.  Compared  with  the  imag- 
ination, it  is  a  recent  development  in  the  evolu- 
tion of  mind.  We  may  conceive  it  as  a  ruler 
which  the  imagination  has  created  and  set  up  for 

19 


its  proper  government.  But  invention  considers 
expediency,  not  morals.  It  must  be  influenced 
by  the  imagination  as  much  as  it  influences  the 
imagination.  The  two  must  constitute  a  part- 
nership. If  permitted  tyranny,  invention  will 
serve  the  imagination  as  the  stork  served  the 
frogs  after  they  had  appointed  him  their  ruler. 
The  naked  product  of  mere  invention  is  the 
material  life,  hard,  selfish,  unfructifying.  It 
lacks  the  vital  principle  —  the  vision,  the  ulti- 
mate understanding — which  resides  in  the  im- 
agination. 

As  the  child  is  undeveloped  and  unorgan- 
ized, his  imagination  is  strong  because  it  is  old 
to  the  species;  his  invention  is  weak  because  it 
is  new.  It  would  be  taking  grave  hazards  to 
assume  that  the  smothering  of  the  richer  func- 
tions of  the  imagination  by  invention  as  the 
child  becomes  adult  implies  that  the  imaginative 
powers  are  being  suppressed  in  the  evolution  of 
the  species,  especially  when  we  reflect  that 
modern  tendencies,  including  artificial  school- 
training,  are  working  an  unnatural  repression 
of  the  imagination.  If  we  are  really  in  the  be- 
ginning of  such  an  evolutionary  change,  an 
explanation  is  demanded  for  the  remarkable 
phenomenon  of  modern  fiction,  its  vast  and  in- 
creasing use  and  the  growing  profundity  of  its 
revelation. 

20 


Fiction,  in  its  highest  modern  form,  almost 
entirely  concerns  itself  with  the  presentation 
and  solution  of  the  vital  —  not  the  external  — 
problems  arising  in  individual  and  social  life. 
In  this  process  it  shows  the  reactions  of  conflict- 
ing impulses,  internal  and  external  to  individ- 
uals. With  exceptions  the  author  exhibits  his 
focal  character  struggling  through  moral  or 
mental  darkness  to  light,  out  of  weakness  into 
strength,  from  defeat  to  victory,  or  toward  a 
vital  goal,  and  in  that  process  discovering  within 
himself,  under  the  stress  of  his  struggle,  hitherto 
concealed  powers  by  the  use  of  which  he  solves 
his  problem  or  wins  his  prize.  Obviously  these 
powers  are  greater  than  those  which  the  charac- 
ter had  formerly  found  and  used,  else  he  prob- 
ably would  not  have  fallen  into  trouble.  His 
conscious  self  had  not  been  adequate;  his  reli- 
ance on  his  inventiveness  had  failed.  Such  is 
the  philosophic  basis  of  modern  fiction  at  its 
best,  and  in  showing  those  qualities  it  announces 
a  great  advance  on  the  older  fiction. 

Hence  the  best  modern  fiction  is  the  most 
vital,  and  therefore  the  most  interesting,  form  of 
modern  literature,  for  involvement  in  living 
problems  from  lack  of  self-discovery  is  all  but 
a  universal  experience;  fiction  points  out  a  w^ay 
to  solve  them  and  implies  a  way  to  avoid  them. 
Thus  it  satisfies  because  it  fits  an  innate  sense  of 

21 


the  fundamental  Tightness  of  things,  for  it  shows 
by  implication  that  what  appear  to  be  life's  cruel 
maladjustments  and  hardships  are  due  to  averti- 
ble causes.  It  sustains  faith  in  the  imperishable 
truth  that  the  normal  trend  of  life,  true  to  evolu- 
tion, is  upward,  not  downward,  and  toward 
victory,  not  defeat.  Thus  such  fiction  not  only 
makes  a  revelation  of  the  greatest  value,  but  it 
strengthens  and  uplifts  because  it  embodies  the 
very  soul  of  evolution.  It  is  significant  that  the 
people  at  large  read  five  times  as  much  fiction  as 
all  the  other  forms  of  literature  combined.  This 
could  not  be  so  unless  it  met  a  vital  need,  fur- 
nishing that  which  is  impossible  to  history, 
biography  and  newspapers. 

Besides  presenting  and  solving  all  conceiv- 
able essential  problems,  fiction  goes  farther  and 
sounds  the  mysteries  of  the  hidden  and  secret  life 
of  the  individual;  it  searches  out  the  cryptic 
springs  of  impulse  and  motive,  and  shows  in  ex- 
haustive analysis  the  reactions  between  the  in- 
dividual and  his  world.  There  is  a  universal 
craving  for  more  and  yet  more  knowledge  of 
this  wonderfully  complex  and  mysterious  entity, 
the  human  being.  Fiction  feeds  that  hunger, 
for  it  shows  life  in  .its  truth,  in  contrast  to  the 
misleading  falsities  of  the  life  we  see  about  us. 
Fiction  would  not  exist  if  it  did  not  furnish  what 
?  study  of  actual  life  fails  to  gwe.    In  its  essence 

22 


and  revelation  it  is  more  real  than  apparent 
reality;  it  is  truer  than  fact.  It  accomplishes 
what  is  impossible  to  a  study  of  actual  life, 
which  conscious  personality  instinctively  con- 
ceals except  in  its  masked  external  manifesta- 
tions. Largely  through  good  fiction  human 
nature  is  coming  into  a  better  understanding  of 
itself.  That  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom,  power 
and  usefulness. 

Where  does  the  fiction-writer  find  his  ability 
to  reveal  the  hidden  life?  Whence  does  he  get 
the  understanding  to  know  what  vital  problems 
are,  and  how  does  he  discover  ways  to  solve 
them?  What  explains  his  miraculous  presenta- 
tion of  purely  imaginary  persons  who  are  more 
real,  who  command  more  of  our  sympathy  and 
make  a  more  lasting  impression  on  us,  than  the 
persons  in  the  visible  life  about  us? 

Certainly  he  must  use  the  insight  which 
heredity  has  made  potential  in  us  all.  From  his 
exhaustless  inherited  experiences  he  draws  his 
knowledge,  since  all  vital  problems  are  as  old 
as  mankind  and  have  all  been  suffered  and 
solved ;  and  his  ability  to  reach  so  deeply  within 
himself  has  been  acquired  by  long  and  deter- 
mined concentration  inward.  From  the  innum- 
erable persons  of  his  inheritance  he  brings 
forth  characters  whom  he  knows  with  an  im- 
measurably greater  intimacy  than  he  can  know 

23 


any  one  in  actual  life,  for  no  person  can  really 
ever  know  another.  With  his  invention  he  ar- 
rays this  precious  understanding  in  a  cogent 
series  of  events,  from  which  the  accidental  and 
other  obscuring  facts  of  actual  life  are  excluded 
as  being  false  to  the  truth  and  logic  of  life. 


Hence  fiction-writing  is  used  as  the  basis  of 
the  guidance  I  give  the  children.  Instead  of 
being  permitted  to  use  their  exuberant,  unorgan- 
ized imaginative  powers  in  purely  fanciful  and 
meaningless  stories,  as  they  are  inclined  to  do, 
they  are  given  definite  problems  in  the  lives  of 
imaginary  children,  and  are  left  to  solve  them 
in  their  own  individual  way.  Of  course  this  is 
not  done  to  make  fiction-writers  of  them,  but  to 
produce  a  normal,  rounded  development  for  any 
life  that  they  may  choose  later;  to  make  them 
more  efficient  in  their  regular  school  work;  and 
— most  important  of  all— to  wake  in  them  a  love 
of  creative  and  constructive  work  and  to  plant 
3  habit  of  continuous  growth. 

The  problems  set  them  for  solution  arc  vital 
and  ethical,  never  trivial  nor  pointless.  Prob- 
lems wholesomely  stimulating  to  the  productive 
powers  are  preferred,  because  of  the  call  which 
these  problems  make  upon  the  imaginative  and 
inventive  powers. 

?4 


An  hour  is  given  the  children  in  which  to 
hear  the  problem  and  to  write  a  complete  story 
embodying  its  solution,  all  in  the  proper  form  of 
the  modern  short  story.  This  time-limit  compels 
the  children  to  make  an  immediate  draft  on  their 
resources.  The  entire  work  is  done  within  the 
hour,  no  home-work  being  given.  Rarely  do 
they  fail — and  some  of  them  never  fail — to  have 
the  story  completed  within  the  time;  and  the 
failures  are  due  to  lack  of  time  for  working  out 
a  larger  scheme  of  their  vision  than  the  limit 
permits.  Their  imagination  and  insight  are  re- 
quired to  bring  the  characters  into  life,  and  fol- 
low them,  rather  than  lead  them,  through  a  line 
of  conduct  springing  naturally  from  impulse 
quickened  by  the  stress  of  the  crisis  in  which 
they  are  plunged.  Invention  also  is  demanded, 
as  the  problems  are  so  designed  as  to  call  for 
ingenuity  and  prompt,  determinative  action  on 
the  part  of  the  characters.  The  ethical  princi- 
ples involved  require  the  children  to  find  and 
use  their  inherited  understanding  of  right  hu- 
man relations,  such  as  the  attitude  of  children 
to  their  parents,  and  to  all  having  a  claim  on 
their  respect,  sympathy  or  help ;  and  to  develop 
self-respect,  courage,  magnanimity,  honesty, 
cheerfulness,  resourcefulness,  determination,  and 
many  other  valuable  traits. 


25 


Here  is  the  class-room  picture  that  a  visitor 
might  see, — if  visitors  were  admitted :  A  group 
of  children  alive  with  curiosity  to  hear  the  day's 
problem  read  to  them;  then  "Oh's!"  with  start- 
led glances  at  one  another,  for  the  problem  is 
sure  at  first  to  look  formidable  and  to  be  dif- 
ferent from  any  they  have  had  before,  and  to 
make  a  draft  on  new  forces;  then  a  gradual 
inward  turning  of  the  vision  as  concentration 
takes  hold,  for  it  is  never  from  their  personal 
experience  or  observation  that  they  can  find  a 
way  to  solve  the  problem.  They  must  discover 
the  understanding,  the  vision,  for  that  task,  and 
must  go  into  their  heredity  for  those.  And  they 
cannot  merely  think  the  story  out;  they  must 
live  it.  In  all  this  procedure  they  start  on  the 
course  traveled  by  the  great  of  the  earth. 

Some  of  them,  before  writing  anything,  wait 
in  deep  absorption  till  the  complete  vision  un- 
folds; others  plunge  at  once  into  writing  the 
opening  of  the  story  by  presenting  in  their  own 
way  the  unsatisfactory  situation  which  has  to  be 
resolved  into  a  satisfactory  one,  and  thus  pre- 
pare themselves  for  the  deeper  vision  by  work- 
ing downward' through  the  conscious  to  the  sub- 
liminal. 

None  ever  come  unwillingly  to  the  class. 
They  protested  against  stopping  during  the 
Christmas  holidays.    During  the  hour  there  has 

26 


been  no  restlessness,  no  discontent.  The  thought 
of  the  work  being  drudgery  or  a  task  has  appar- 
ently never  occurred  to  them.  They  are  sunk 
within  the  mysteries  and  wonders  of  their  own 
being,  completely  isolated,  in  no  real  sense  a  part 
of  a  class  or  a  crowd.  And  they  are  living  a  vital 
hour,  such  as  they  get  nowhere  else,  for  they  are 
doing  creative  work  of  the  truest  sort,  and  they 
feel  the  thrill  of  its  constructive  power.  No 
interference  nor  suggestion  is  offered  by  the 
guide,  and  none  is  desired.  A  suggestion  was 
needed  at  the  first  lesson;  at  the  second  it  was 
offered,  and  was  declined  with  true  self-respect 
and  dignity,  as  though  a  common  right  to  free- 
dom in  self-expression  had  been  threatened. 

Interest  is  keen  when  at  last  some  of  the 
stories  are  read  to  the  class,  because  no  two  of 
the  children  ever  solve  the  problem  quite  simi- 
larly, and  the  variations  bring  delightful  sur- 
prises and  some  wonder.  These  variations  are 
stimulating.  Their  great  significance  lies  in 
their  revealing  individual  dififerentiation  —  a 
self-finding,  an  escape  from  the  crowd-pressure 
and  from  common  tasks  and  measures  —  and 
their  showing  a  ready  capacity  for  individual 
development. 

If  the  order  of  things  permitted  this  guid- 
ance to  be  an  hour  a  day  for  five  days  a  week, 
the  results  would,  of  course,    be    much    more 

2J 


striking  than  those  secured  from  one  hour  a 
week,  the  time  heretofore  given.  Yet  even  with 
this  meager  attention  the  response  of  the  chil- 
dren is  conspicuous  in  the  growth  they  exhibit 
under  the  work  and  in  the  distinction  they  win 
in  their  schools  through  their  exercise  of  un- 
usual initiative  and  originality. 

Self-discovery,  with  development  and  in- 
ternal organization,  does  not  cover  all  the  bene- 
fits to  be  expected  from  the  work.  Readiness  of 
intelligent  self-expression  by  writing  is  itself 
of  great  importance,  and  under  prevalent  meth- 
ods of  education  is  the  rarest  of  equipments.  The 
ability  to  write  well  and  freely  is  clearly  shown 
by  a  study  of  our  evolution  to  be  essential  to 
any  real  education  or  culture.  Yet  this,  the  high- 
est step  in  our  evolution,  is  the  one  most  sedu- 
lously neglected  by  prevalent  modern  education. 
That  education  crowds  valuable  things  within 
and  opens  no  adequate  avenues  for  their  issu- 
ance nor  for  individual  expression.  The  waste 
represented  by  that  policy  is  prodigious,  for 
knowledge  and  understanding  without  expres- 
sion are  largely  useless. 

Still  another  benefit  the  children  receive  is 
their  ability  to  read  with  a  better  comprehension. 
Indeed,  it  may  be  doubted  that  one  unable  to 
write  easily  and  accurately  can  fully  understand 
anything  that  one  reads,  since  words  and  their 

28 


composition  bear  meanings  which  elude  the 
reader  who  cannot  write  well.  But  back  of  all 
that  are  the  deeper  understanding  and  the  great- 
er power  which  the  development  assured  by 
writing  brings. 


Publications  of  the  A-to-Zed  School 

BERKELEY,  CALIFORNIA. 
The  Passing  of  Evolution. 
I. — The  Involution  of  Man. 
II. — The  Bearing  of  Involu- 
tion on  Education.      -      By  Cora  L.  Williams 

The  first  essay  shows  that  for  a  complete  syn- 
thesis of  the  life-process  it  is  necessary  to  supple- 
ment evolution  with  involution.  The  second  is 
concerned  with  the  mob-mind  in  the  school- 
room. Price,  50  cents. 

A  Constructive  Philosophy  for 

Child-Culture.  -  -  By  W.  C.  Morrow 

Showing  the  value  of  written  expression,  espe- 
cially of  imaginative  writing,  for  the  develop- 
ment of  the  individual;  of  interest  to  educators 
generally  and  to  teachers  of  composition  espe- 
cially, as  well  as  to  students  of  fiction-writing. 
1  Boards,  75  cents. 

The    Real    Value    of    Science- 
Teaching.        -            -            -  By  Percy  E.  Rovvell 
Ready  October,  1913.  Paper,  50  cents. 
The     Working     Essentials    of 

Plane  Trigonometry.              -  By  Adelaide  Smith 
Designed  to  give  a  quick    understanding    of  the 

subject.     (In  press.)  Cloth,  60  cents. 

Science  for  the    Fifth    Grade.        By  Percy  E.  Rowell 
A  text-book    which  teaches,  from  the  view-point 
of  the  child,  the  fundamental  principles    under- 
lying his  needs.     Illustrated,  XIV— 200  pp. 

Cloth,  60  cents. 

A  Syllabus  of  Plane  Geometry.  By  Cora  L.  Williams 
Classifies  the  theorems  of  the  standard  texts 
under  the  three  hypotheses  which  may  be  made 
with  reference  to  the  existence  of  parallels.  "A 
Course  of  Geometry  without  some  such  sylla- 
bus is  like  an  arch  without  a  keystone;  it  is  cer- 
tain to  fall  into  fragments."  Professor  Irving 
Stringham.  Paper,  50  cents. 

The  Logic  of  Punctuation. 
Fundamentals     of    Fiction- 

writing  -  -  -  By  W.  C.  Morrow 

(In  preparation.) 


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